PUSH
by LaDanaid
Summary: Cameron makes an unusual bet with House... can he play the game?
1. PUSH

**House/Cameron SmutAThon entry**  
Title - **PUSH** (5000+ words - had to post in two parts, link at bottom for continuation)  
Beta: The lovely **gabesaunt** - many many thanks! Especially as I'm always frantic, particularly in this piece where I'm a little bit out of my element (and it's not because of the smut...lol)  
Pairing - House & Cameron  
Rating -NC-17  
Spoilers - No spoilers here!  
Summary - Cameron makes a bet with House... can he play the game?  
Disclaimer - I don't own House or any of the characters...really wish I did... ;)  
Comments and feedback very welcome:) ...especially because this is a different POV than I usually write in... many thanks! 

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**PUSH**

She gave him a shove. She'd had it with him. His innuendoes, his games, the way he treated her, the words he hid behind. Time to up the ante...

House is actually quite amused that he generated a reaction out of her... finally; especially lately, when he has only received the silent treatment. And it's not that he didn't deserve it from her, he actually asked for it, encouraged it with his actions. He hoped that if he treated her like shit, she would just go away, especially out of his mind and out of his dreams.

But, no, not Allison Cameron. No, she didn't go away. She crept under his skin. Her voice and laughter floated like music through the office, always seeming to land on the grumpy doc's desk when he wanted to be alone or miserable, left alone in his mind, not her voice echoing in it. Allison Cameron had a way of asking questions or even making little (sometimes big) demands that made everything seem so fiercely personal. Her lively eyes demanding everything from him, never backing down, never giving up. Everything she spoke was a question - a question that even if turned around on her became an inquiry into his soul.

She was daring enough to dip her toes into his dirty, murky moat waters, digging under his fortress walls and tunneling her way into his life - into his mind. She was a life force of her own accord. She just made Greg House crazy, all kinds of crazy and he just couldn't take it. Change was not a good thing for him, nor was he interested in lowering that draw bridge. So he had taken it upon himself, in his Housian manner, to make her life equally as miserable as he felt her intrusions to be. He didn't care if she was confused by his actions; he wasn't planning on explaining his reasoning.

Over many months, House berated her, harassed her, put her down, ignored her, and ignored her medical judgment (even if she was correct). Pretty much did everything and anything an eight your old boy might do or, well, just House himself. He just insulted her. She said nothing. Nor did she betray any look of hurt, shock or anger on her face or in her eyes, she kept quiet, and she kept to herself.

He thought he would be relieved by this silence, the slight removal of her butting into his private life, but he just pondered why she never reacted, never said _anything_. He grew harsher. The boys actually complained to Cuddy, who warned him of disciplinary action, which was a half-assed threat since Cameron, herself, did not make a complaint. Wilson tried to probe him, but House successfully evaded all Cameron-related questions. Besides, Wilson had enough of his own problems going on.

House grew to hate the weekends. Not only for all the time he had to himself now (a whole other issue), but having to deal with the potential on-call person, especially if it was _her_. When there was no patient in their care, they had implemented a rotating schedule between the three fellows for emergencies. House hated the schedule, though it did give everyone a much needed break. House just wanted to avoid Cameron at all costs. No talking. No seeing. No hearing.

This particular weekend morning, House was woken not kindly by the soft hues of the sunlight and the normal pain in his leg, but rather by the shrilling sound of his pager and, well, the normal throb in his leg. He reached for the phone and called the hospital. The still sleepy doctor gave his medical orders, had them page his on-call person and got ready to head in to the hospital. He was not looking forward to spending the day together with just Cameron.

House arrives at the Diagnostic Department expecting to find his pretty protégé fluttering around with files, having already brewed a fresh pot of coffee and ready to update him on the condition of the patient. But Cameron and her belongings are nowhere insight. He checks-in with the nurse handling his patient, orders some tests, and sets a pot of coffee to brew. Still no Cameron.

He sits at his desk, the morning sun pouring strongly through the windows, drinking bad coffee, thinking about Cameron, which is the last thing he wants to be doing. He's becoming increasingly frustrated and annoyed at her tardiness, the unusual lack of responsibility she is showing. He's trying to decide what hateful words he will spit at her when she arrives today. He cringes inwardly as he thinks of some of the phrases he might use, he hates that this is what has become of them. He hates that she seems so unaffected. His mind reflects back to times when they had conversations, little underling to mentor discussions that were often really little heart to hearts, which at times he privately enjoyed. He hates that he's thinking about it.

Over an hour passes, and House has already started his own whiteboard meeting. He's fuming. (And privately, starting to get a little concerned by her absence.) He's about to pick up the phone to page Cameron when the door swooshes open and Cameron glides in without a care in the world on her shoulders and with a young man in tow. They are having a quiet chit chat, light laughter floating over the room; they are in total ignorance of House's presence.

House lifts his eyebrows as they proceed to ignore him, surprised by her continued behavior. "Uhem."

"Oh, good morning House, I didn't see you there," Cameron lightly responds, turning back to her conversation with her young friend.

("She just did not!" he thinks to himself.)

House eyes her up, taking in her young fella and her ridiculous outfit... his target for the day. A relatively normal V-neck maroon sweater, a tweed skirt and child-like maroon tights? If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn she just came from church or teaching five year olds.

"Cameron what took you so long? The hospital paged you two hours ago?" His tone dripping with some bitterness.

Just as she opens her mouth, House cuts her off, not a chance he's letting her get a word in, not a chance. "And this isn't 'Take your kids to work day' so please escort your guest to the nearest exit and perhaps he can take that ridiculous schoolmarm outfit and stockings with him so you can wear something more sensible for working today."

Cameron's face turns a lovely shade of rose. House contemplates the color momentarily, thinking it might make nice paint for his bedroom walls, and heads off to the haven of his office. He doesn't care to hear whatever she might say, nor does he want to stand in the awkwardness with her and her friend. From his office, House watches from the corner of his eye as Cameron and her _new_ man exit the conference room. He wonders if he may have generated a response from her, if she'll fly into his office with vengeance in her. The thought makes him grin.

He's standing with X-rays in his hand when Cameron does come flying into his office. Her cheeks still flushed with that lovely shade of pink, her hair is coming apart, her eyes are dilated with anger, and her breathing is hitched. He imagines this might be what she looks like when she's turned on and he starts to melt - the room feeling smaller with her presence. God, he wishes he didn't know her and that she wasn't angry, because in her anger she is so damn sexy.

Cameron quickly crosses the room and pushes him. She gives him a good shove that pushes him up against the desk (he quickly feels the heat of her small hands burn through the fabric of his shirt). "House! I've had it with you!"

He shrugs. He actually doesn't blame her. He already knows he's a SOB. He smiles, he can't help himself. In some ways, he just enjoys pissing her off, because she pisses him off so much.

"House, I've had it with you!" She repeats herself. She is out of breath. She must have run back here just to yell at him. "You are so rude!"

"Well, no surprise there," he snorts.

"If you have something to say to me, you say it to me in private! Got it? It's bad enough that you ridicule me all day long in front of everyone, and I take it, but in front of my friends? Is that necessary? And to make comments about my clothes, what I wear, how I look? I don't do that to you! No one does! How rude, mean and immature is that?"

He looks at her and says nothing. She knows better. She knows he's never going to say he's sorry, he never does. He knows she knows enough that she doesn't expect it from him. He just looks at her. The humor is starting to fade. By the way Cameron is biting on her lip and pacing a bit, Gregory House knows she is calming herself down, moving into her "serious" tone.

"House, why is it that you can't deal with me?" Cameron asks flatly, not in her normal pleading manner. "You ridicule and pick on me more than the others. I never complain, I never say a thing," she has her arms across her chest. "I take it. I have always liked you and admired you, and you, you just treat me horribly, why is that?"

By her honesty, House senses her confidence returning. House is silent. He can't even laugh inside now for some reason. He can't look at her clear eyes, he looks at the floor.

She laughs a little evil laugh. He glances up at her in surprise. "You know what House, it's a good thing I do keep my mouth shut, and just keep away from you."

He's becoming confused now. Damn woman. This is why he doesn't want to talk to her, part of the reason at least. He doesn't know what she's talking about or what she's going to say. His urge is to put his head in his hands and scream to block her out, afraid of her possibly whip-lashing words.

"You," she begins, stepping back and forth on her high heels, "could _not_ handle me. See," drawing out her speech, consonants and vowels rolling off her tongue slowly and sweetly, "you see me in a lot of ways as a young naive girl that I am not; I am a woman. I think you struggle seeing me that way. But you know what, you couldn't handle that. It's easier for you to hide and hang behind your words and your hookers and whatever else. So we just stopped talking. Any easier?" She raises an eyebrow.

House feels the office walls closing in on him even more. The glass not providing any sense of escape to the man who is usually running away to hide and used to hiding behind those particular glass walls.

"Care for a wager?" she baits.

House is frozen; he can never turn down a bet. He hasn't been able to say anything, confused by her words, even her body language has changed, her stance stronger, more dominant. She comes to where he is leaning on the desk. She straddles her legs across his ankles, her skirt hem grazing his jeans.

"I am much stronger and different than you think. There is a lot you don't know about me. Or, I, about you." She pauses, leans in and puts her hands on the desk in-between his hands and waist. "I bet you two hundred dollars," she starts to lower her voice and whisper in his ear, "that you can't take these, what did you call them? Oh yes, ridiculous stockings off with your teeth, fuck me and go home." She backs away, her long hair tickling his neck in her motion. "And we don't need to discuss it to death, so we'll leave it at that."

He tells her he'll take that bet. She puts her hand out. He takes her small hand in his larger one, hers warm and dry (she's not nervous at all). She turns to leave. She hesitates in the doorway and says, "My place, when we're done here."

She's gone. He gulps and asks himself, "What did you just do?"

First, he goes get himself a big cherry slurpy and some trash reading. He's going to be around a while waiting for test results and, thankfully, Cameron will be in the lab. He tries to imagine that she has gone there to hide. He tries to ignore the fact that she walked out of his office holding her back straight and her head high. Her stride had a slight sway in her hips, leaving House to enjoy the retreating view as she left him alone to ponder this bet. His immediate thoughts after her lusty strut are thrill that he's going to feel her ass, bare, with his hands.

At first, he thinks that he's got it made. _She's_ going to pay _him_ two hundred bucks to have sex with her. The only thing is he won't be at his own home (he likes _his_ comfort), so he'll have to get up and go home. _So_, it's a little colder out than his leg might like, but he's had to deal with it every day. No problem! This _is_ better than a hooker. He thinks about calling Wilson to tell him about his little deal, but then thinks better of it, in case Cameron backs out, besides, Wilson might disapprove. If she backs out, he'll still make her pay up. Oh, did he mention already that she's paying him to have sex with her? And she's hot! No problem! This is gonna be cake.

Then House starts thinking about the sway of her hips again, the round edge of her ass; the movement of her hair along her back, her legs longer in heels, and he immediately has an erection. He recalls her scent as she leant in toward him and tempted him with her bet, that lascivious bitch! And he sees her eyes, those green eyes looking at him; in a way they haven't looked at him in a long time... he shakes his head, trying to sweep those memories and ideas out of his mind. He can't look at her in any way but a one night stand. That's what she's giving him, that's all he needs. He doesn't know why she's doing it, but what the hell! If she can handle it, he most certainly can handle a one night stand with a beautiful woman, even if she does work for him.

He works on his slurpy, giving himself a brain freeze and hoping that helps freeze his mind. It does for a while. He puts feet up and starts flipping the pages of his magazine: Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Jessica Simpson, Nick Lachey, Britney Spears is a bad mom, yada yada yada. Nothing new.

Cameron enters his office, patient file in hand. House takes it from her and starts reading it, ignoring all the words coming out of her mouth. He _needs_ to; he can't look at her mouth. He gives her orders for meds and knows that will stabilize the patient and send them off to the healing world. He continues with his magazine and slurpy, trying to ignore her presence and it's not easy, especially as he's being tempted.

"So," she begins, "I'm going to get going. I'll see you in a little while?"

"Yup," he responds, not looking up. She's about to exit the door when he reminds her not to take those silly maroon stockings off. He swears he hears her smile.

END PT 1


	2. SHOVE

**PUSH** Continued: _Shove_

House leaves the hospital already with a tumbler of scotch in him. He figures he is going to need it. He briefly questions what he is about to do. He knows he usually does stupid and rash things, but now he even wonders if he might be going over the line here. He ponders the potential hurt factor, but Cameron seems so self-assured. Gregory House decides he'll look at her like another distraction; he's egotistical enough that he doesn't have the money in his wallet. This doctor factors his own hurt factor out.

House pulls in front of Cameron's building, opens the glove compartment, takes out a flask and takes a long swig of scotch. He watches the hues of the sky changing from blue to purples and pinks, the day ending, late winter air cooling the night. Another big swig and he decides he is going to enter this situation and turn everything around and put it in his control, that's how he deals with things best.

The Cameron that answers the door is the confident, head held high, striking woman that left the hospital with a strut. She isn't quiet; she isn't the Cameron he's berated for weeks. She is smiling and friendly, ushering House quickly into her home. She asks him to follow her to the kitchen, as she is just tidying up. Does he want something to drink? Is he hungry?

House sits at her kitchen table, watching her move stealthily around the kitchen. She hands him a drink, and leans against the counter, seemingly ready to have a casual conversation, which they haven't had in months. House thinks to himself that this just isn't going to do. Better to just dive in. He eyes up the clean kitchen table. He quickly downs the tumbler, puts it on the counter, takes the wine glass out of Cameron's hand, and places it next to his glass. He grabs Cameron by the waist and lifts her up on the edge of the table. He enjoys seeing the element of surprise on her face, if he had his way, he would keep it there. And get his money and go home tonight. Game on.

Cameron's sweater feels soft beneath his fingers, the heat of her body radiating into his arms. Though his motions are so quick, it seems as if his mind is suspended - slowly taking in her scent, the closeness of her breath and body, her changing expression, the wideness of her green eyes, and the softness of her mouth. He is apprehensive about how to touch her - to kiss her or not? To be tender? He shakes his head. House looks at her shocked face, his hands gripping her waist, and he slowly ducks his head, running his cheek along her neck, hearing her gasp slightly. His hands reach for her arms, running his fingers down the sleeves, and lowering her down onto to the table. Leaning over her, he roughly pins her arms above her head and starts moving down her torso, nuzzling and groping and biting through the fabric, a free hand searching for the hem of her skirt, Cameron starting to squirm under him.

Lowering himself into the chair, House removes her shoes, tossing them behind them. Allison giggles when she hears the thud of them falling. His hands trail up her legs, up those ridiculous maroon tights that a five year old would wear. His fingers enjoy the curve of her thighs as they inch up her skirt, the heat under the tweed heating him, arousing him more and more. Roughly, he pushes the skirt above her waist, his long fingers running along the band along her waist, touching the skin, the forbidden skin. House stands a bit, leaning over her, running his nose and face over Cameron's pelvis inhaling her arousal. When he reaches the band, he sticks his tongue out and licks the soft exposed skin. His hands on her hips, he grabs the waistband with his mouth and starts pulling the maroon lycra down, his teeth guiding the hose down.

As he begins to reach the fine, sparse hair, he has to note: no underwear. "Well, Dr. Cameron, I never thought you as being the no underwear wearing kind of girl," and continues on his path of removal.

She replies, "I like to feel free."

House grins, his mouth pulling the nylon further down, his nose rubbing along her skin. He yearns to lick her, to taste her - anywhere.

The removal of the maroon stockings occur with relative ease. He tosses them over his shoulder and sits back in the chair. The increasingly horny doctor pulls himself closer to the table for what he feels is the real feast. He isn't sure if this is in their agreement, but he doesn't care; he can't help himself. Slowly, his mouth begins the upward ascent along the inside of her creamy thighs. Taking in the taste and the feeling of the soft flesh on his tongue and under his hands, he is mesmerized. He can feel Cameron's body responding, her back arching, pushing herself closer to him. House teases her without mercy, nosing around in her pubic hair with his tongue, never touching her folds, watching her getting wetter and wetter, seeing the red marks his scruff leaves on her.

Greg House _wants_ to hear her call out his name, to ask for _him_ to pleasure her. It doesn't come, and he isn't surprised, she is (he is finding out) the master of holding out. He can't resist anymore. He delves his tongue into her, tasting her, exploring her, feeling her body rising, moaning quietly. God he wants her, his erection becoming painfully pressed in the confines of his jeans. He pulls her closer, feeling her fine tight ass under his hands. Lost in her taste, he is enjoying sucking on her arousal and gauging her response. Her moans turning into 'yes-es' and gasps as he feels her slim fingers in his hair. He rubs his scruffy chin gently on her clit, and then twirls his tongue on her swollen nub to soothe and tease it more, his fingers gently slid up down her and finally thrusting into her, where he feels her wet walls clamp down on him, her hands pull his head harder into him, she rubbing herself into his face crying out in pleasure.

She releases him, lies back on the table, while he continues to lick at her twitching muscles, savoring her taste and smell, drawing it all in. He runs his hands up and down her legs. House feels an odd twinge of intimacy within himself; he wants to pull her into his lap and into his arms, have her closer. He quickly tries to brush those thoughts and feelings out of his mind, these unfamiliar twinges, like forgotten mementoes locked away in attic trunks to be rediscovered treasures. He tries to remind himself he is a third of the way to his two hundred bucks. This thought doesn't help him.

Cameron sits up, and gently slides her body onto his lap, a small smile gracing her lightly glistening face, her green eyes enlivened. She leans in and kisses House - a short wet kiss on his mouth. He is surprised, and pulls her closer to him, hesitating, looking at her mouth and then devouring her lips with his mouth. Cameron opens her mouth to him willingly, he tangling his tongue with hers, tasting, licking. His hands feel their way to her hair, grasping soft locks, his hands moving to the back of her neck, feeling the softness of her skin and hair in his fingers, his thumb circling a soft spot on her neck. They back away from each other breathless, their eyes filled with lust, surprise and bewilderment. Cameron smiles.

"C'mon," she says, the word dripping off her tongue. She gets up off his lap, and offers him her hand. 

She guides House to her bedroom. He is awed by her confidence. The room is dimly lit, and he can't really take in the surroundings. Cameron is quick to guide him to the edge of the bed, taking his cane from him and hanging it from the bed frame within his reach. Standing in front of him, Cameron unzips her skirt and slides out of it, pulling her sweater over her head and removing her bra. 

House wants to sit there and take her in, the day's events happening so quickly. She crawls behind him on the bed, her arm wraps around his chest. The young doctor begins to nibble on the back of his neck and his ears, rubbing her hands up and down his torso, her nimble fingers starting to unbutton his oxford and pulling it off his shoulders. She teases the edge of his T-shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath and then pulls it up over his head.

Gregory House is enjoying her attention: her fingertips gently tickling his skin, her mouth soft and wet along his neck. He knows he is going to be completely naked in front of her soon, but he realizes that he's suddenly not scared or nervous about that. As much as an asshole he can be to her, Cameron would never focus on his leg, never make a remark, and probably never take notice of it; innately, he knows this is true of her. Some reason he feels like he can trust her. This feeling and revelation is weird and an odd emotion for him to have and it continues to creep into him.

She gets off the bed and stands in front of him, kissing him, working her mouth down his body down his chest. He is glad to feel the warmth of her skin, the curve of her hips brush through his hands, the softness of her breasts. House feels her hands at his waist, undoing his buckle, and he is compliant. He shifts his hips and off go his jeans, Cameron grabbing his boxers, sneakers and socks along with them.

She is kneeling before him before he can stop her. He has white flashes in his eyes as she swirls her tongue along the tip of his cock, her wet mouth taking him wholly, her hands sliding up and down his shaft. She stops, gliding her body up along his, he feeling the hardness of her nipples along his skin as he reaches out for them, first with his hands then with his mouth. Cameron before him, hands in his hair, as he licks and sucks at her hardened nipples, nibbling on them with his teeth, pulling her body closer to him. Her scent enchanting him, as he pulls her closer, closer...

She backs away and offers House a hand. He takes it, looking at her with confusion. "Trust me," she smiles.

She leads him over to a soft, low stool placed in front of an old-fashioned vanity, three long mirrors angled and lightly lit by some candles. Allison has House sit on the stool, and she opens a drawer and retrieves a condom packet, handing it to him. House is captivated by the mirror and the repeating images in it, an abundance of visual stimulation in his mind.

Straddling his legs, Cameron lowers her lithe body onto his hard-on slowly, her tight muscles clamping around his cock giving him such pleasure that he immediately groans. She rhythmically moves up and down House's shaft, as he tries to inhale her, devouring her mouth, her neck, her breasts - anything he can taste and touch. He feels the grip of her fingernails on his arms, any pain in his leg a forgotten memory. 

Cameron groans in his ear. "Hmm...House," she says in a breathless growl, "does this feel good?"

He groans. He can't be verbal - his capacity for words just not a possibility.

Cameron halts her movements. He looks at her, trying to keep his face from showing any emotion that he is starting to feel. She is smiling. Momentarily, he wonders if she is going to get up and walk away and leave him like this – aroused, naked, _exposed_. She turns around, faces the mirrors, and lowers herself on him again. He is enthralled. He can feel the pulsating of her walls as she moves up and down his cock. He reaches in front of her glistening body, rubbing her nipples between his fingers, his mouth tasting her neck and her back. He isn't sure how much more he can take.

This woman is astounding him, taking away whatever pain he had, endorphins running rampant through his body. His heart is racing; he is panting. Watching Cameron in the mirror, House sees her reach in front of herself and start rubbing her clit. She is just amazing to watch, to see her take herself to further ecstasy, as she is fucking him. Her head is thrown back, her long curls tossed everywhere. With one hand, she reaches for his head, his mouth immediately going for her fingers, her other hand massaging her clit. And the mirrors… just watching everything in three different angles, three different dimensions, House is lost - overwhelmed. He puts his hands on her hips and starts forcing her down onto him harder, she is moaning loudly, he knows she is starting to climax, he can feel it; feel that hot burn inside of her starting to let go to an unbelievable release, and he is with her.

House is at awe at this woman before him, which is shocking to him. He holds her in his arms; they are both glistening with sweat and panting. The feeling of her in his arms is so foreign to him, but he has no desire to push her away. Not yet at least. She turns slightly around on his lap, slides her arms around his neck, and places a kiss between the skin between neck and shoulder.

She pulls away and looks at him with a little evil grin on her face. She keeps smiling at him, why?

She leans in, kisses his mouth, enjoying the mixing of all the tastes. "Hmmm…that was so good," she smiles into his lips.

He nods, but he is frozen. Frozen suddenly by what is going on here tonight, though he is so warmed by her heat.

Cameron stands up and takes his hand as to lead him somewhere again, he is confused. "C'mon," she motions.

House realizes that she's leading him everywhere tonight. He lost control. He tries to recall when he lost his control, he begins to realize it happened a long time ago.

"Take a vicodin, get in the bed, have a little rest," she says as she pulls him up and guides him to the bed, "we're not done yet."

She winks and leaves the room. House is speechless. He slides cautiously into the cool sheets. He hears Cameron making noise in another part of the apartment, and seriously wonders what the heck he should do. The deal was sex, money, leave. Lost in his thoughts of new confusion, Cameron reappears in the room with a tray of drinks and snacks.

"Figured you may have worked up a bit of an appetite, I know I did," she crawls onto the blanket with the spread. "Besides, you need to get your energy back, if you think this night is over, you're crazy."

Allison leans in to kiss him, and House is astonishingly glad for the comfort of her mouth. She pulls away. "Animal cracker?"

House feels a pressure on his chest. He opens his eyes to see a cat staring at him. "Great, she has a cat. No surprise." He thinks to himself. 

Sunlight is peaking through the curtains lighting an unfamiliar room. "Sunlight. Hmm. Sunlight? Oh, shit."

He looks at the cat, "Thanks for waking me, you think you could have aimed for earlier?"

House hears the gentle breathing next to him. Allison. He closes his eyes, memories of the night flashing in his mind. Her head is in the crook of his arm, he feels her naked ass snuggled up against his skin. "Hello, morning erection." He knocks the cat off him, turning over to pull Cameron's body closer to his, her breast in his hand, his mouth on her neck.

"Mmmm, morning," she smiles.

"Yes, good morning." He surprises himself by his somewhat pleasant and happy tone.

"Where's my two hundred bucks?"

"Well, first, let's talk about getting rid of the new boyfriend."

She laughs. "And to think, to get you to this place, all it took was someone who _seemed_ like a boyfriend, an insult and a push."

"You mean more like a shove."

"True."

"_We_ have some talking to do." He says quietly.

"You think?" she smiles. "I think we need to talk, period."

House ponders the truth of her words. The reacquainting of conversation between the two of them really such a missed pleasure.

She pauses. "I knew you couldn't refuse a bet. That no matter what crap you dished out to me, the more I ignored you, the more it drove you crazy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Cameron laughs. "I knew how bad I wanted you…still. And with all the anger you were throwing at me, I just knew you that you were using it to cover something else."

She looks at him with her honest green eyes. "I guess you think that makes you pretty smart? So you decided to really do two things," House whispers in her ear.

"Two things?"

"Sure, make a bet with me – which I can't refuse."

"And second?"

"Pissing me off more by making me potentially jealous and possibly sending me into a rampage."

Cameron laughs. "No, I think that would have been too dangerous. That's all you."

"I like hearing your voice again," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I like that we're talking right now." She smiles at him.

He nods in agreement, leans over and kisses her. "I'm glad I'm here."

A week later, after what was a 'staged' meeting with Cameron to discuss their differences, House and Cameron appear to be back to their old selves at the hospital. At least that's what everyone else thinks, and that's fine by them. For now.

It's Friday morning, and House has promised to take Cameron on an honest first date. He is looking forward to it, since he secretly craves more time with her. Allison is sitting at the conference room table contributing to their whiteboard meeting. House has just poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. He is limping back to the board when he takes notice of something.

He knows with the two hundred dollars that she won, she went shopping. He also knows they are leaving right after work today for their date, so there is no time for her to go home to change. All of a sudden her attire is screaming out to him from underneath her quiet white lab coat and giving him an erection. From underneath a pair of conservative, wide-legged black pants, paired with a brand new pair of very sexy black heels, Cameron is wearing fish-net stockings. He thinks he's died and gone to heaven. He would never tell anyone how quickly he has become a pushover _over_ her... Now, the question is how to end this day quickly...

_**Push**: In gambling terms, a tie hand between a dealer and a player; no money changes hands. _

fin


End file.
